


A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

by Dextrousleftie



Category: Gakuen Heaven
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Love, Lust, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextrousleftie/pseuds/Dextrousleftie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niwa notices something bugging Iwai. Will he be able to find out what's bothering the artist? And will his attempts lead to something much more than either of them ever expected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

:It’s good to be the King: mused Niwa Tetsuya as he strode cheerfully through the door of the Student Council room. He grinned to see the tall figure of his friend and Vice President Nakajima Hideaka hunched over his computer once again. Probably having yet another flame war with Shichijo Omi of the Treasury. Those two hated each other with a passion. Niwa had always found their cyber war quite funny, and his grey eyes twinkled as he went to throw himself on the couch.

“Hey, Hide!” he said loudly.

Nakajima turned his head to frown at his friend awfully, his black brows drawing down over his sapphire eyes. “Do you have to be so loud, Tet-chan?” he demanded irritably.

Niwa smirked. “Course I do,” he said, snagging the school paper from the coffee table and stretching out his long legs to rest his feet on the table top. Nakajima gave him an artic stare for putting his feet up on the table, a habit that he had never been able to break him of. The King flicked the paper open to conceal his evil grin. Nakajima sighed in disgust and turned back to his computer. He’d long since learned that there was no way that he could successfully brow beat Niwa if the King didn’t choose to let him. Of course, that was one of the reasons that they were such close friends. Nakajima didn’t respect anyone who couldn’t stand up to him.

“Are you giving Omi-kun another virus, Hide?” Niwa asked after a moment’s silence.

Nakajima snorted elegantly. “No. I’m currently transferring all of the treasury’s funds to a numbered account in Switzerland,” he said in satisfaction.

Niwa dropped the paper to stare at his friend with wide eyes. “You’re what?!” he blurted out in disbelief.

“You look like a carp with your mouth open like that,” Nakajima said coolly. “Don’t get all excited. If the Treasury Dog can’t figure out what happened to the money, the account will automatically close and shunt it back into the Treasury accounts by the end of the business day tomorrow. I’m just letting the Dog sweat a bit, that’s all,” Nakajima said with a small, evil smile.

Niwa shook his head. “You and Omi-kun’s war is getting out of hand, Hide,” he said sternly. “You should both stop before you end up getting expelled.”

“I sincerely doubt that will happen, Tet-chan,” Nakajima replied calmly as he turned back to his computer. “The Chairman values our computer skills too much. We’ll both be assets to the company once we graduate. And business IS war, after all. This is just practical experience for when we actually enter the lists.”

“If you say so,” Niwa said doubtfully. He lifted his paper once more, speaking from behind it. “Have you heard the latest gossip?” he asked.

Nakajima threw him an annoyed look. “No, nor do I care,” he said. He was irritated because he knew that Niwa would insist on telling him anyway, despite his disinterest.

“Well, according to a confidential source(Taki),” Niwa went on as though Nakajima hadn’t said anything. “The Terrible Twosome are shacked up with Naruse.”

This bit of information actually caught Nakajima’s attention. He turned from his computer screen to frown at Niwa. “What proof do you have of that?” he asked.

“Well, SOMEONE saw them coming out of Naruse’s dorm room at seven in the morning, and they didn’t look like they’d just been discussing team business with their captain, if you know what I mean.”

“Hmm,” Nakajima considered this bit of information seriously. “So you’re saying that Naruse-san is...errr…doing both of them?”

Niwa’s grey eyes gleamed as he lowered the paper again to look at his friend over the top. “Such language, Hide,” he chided. “But yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. All I’ve got to say is that Naruse is a lot more courageous than I am. Both of the twins at once? That guy must have a ton of stamina.”

Nakajima rolled his eyes. “That would be the only thing that you think of,” he remarked in disgust.

Niwa shrugged. “What else is there to consider?” he said in amusement. “Don’t be so uptight, Hide. You need to get laid more often, you know that?”

Nakajima shook his head. “That’s your answer for everything, Tet-chan.”

The King tilted his head cheekily. “And why shouldn’t it be? Regular sex is good for the body AND the mind.”

Nakajima swiveled his chair around so that he was facing his computer screen once again. “It obviously hasn’t helped your mind any,” he said with acid sarcasm.

Niwa winced. “Ouch,” he chuckled, acknowledging Nakajima’s hit. “Oh, hey - I meant to ask you if you know what’s bugging Iwai,” he continued.

“Why should I know something like that?” Nakajima said aridly.

Niwa winced at his tone. “I know you don’t like him very much, Hide, but you do seem to know a lot of what goes on around BL. I’m not sure why, since you barely ever leave this room.”

“I know what’s going on with the things that interest me,” Nakajima replied stonily. “The morbid mopings of Iwai-san do not fall into that category in any way.”

Niwa sighed. He understood why Hide didn’t like the President of the Art Club. The two men’s personalities were not compatible in any way. Iwai was the kind of person who really needed someone to take care of him, and Nakajima was not a caretaker personality. As far as he was concerned, if a person couldn’t stand on their own two feet then they should just fall - preferably into a crocodile pit. But Niwa WAS a caretaker, which is why he’d ended up as President of the Student Council and the unofficial King of the school. When people were unhappy, he always wanted to know why and what he could do to cheer them up.

And Iwai, who was usually a little melancholy, seemed to have moved past that into full-blown depression. Niwa had caught a brief glimpse of him sketching on the veranda as he’d dashed by, and had been startled to see tears on his cheeks. He meant to go hunt Iwai down later and find out what was wrong. Maybe see if he couldn’t cheer him up in some way. He’d just been hoping that Hide knew what was troubling the sensitive artist. Oh well, it had been a faint hope at best.

A plan suddenly formed in the back of Niwa’s mind, and he grinned. He was a creature of impulse, and he decided then and there that he was going to carry it out. He’d need the help of some of the other students, especially Taki. If this didn’t cheer Iwai up, then his name wasn’t Niwa Tetsuya. Happily he got up and left the student council room to go set his plan in motion, saying over his shoulder as he darted out: "See ya later, Hide!”

Nakajima was just glad to see him go. Now he could get some work done. A wicked smile played over his mouth as the Swiss bank confirmed the transfer of the treasury money into a private account. Let the Treasury Dog sweat and worry about where his money had gone, Nakajima thought in satisfaction. That’ll fix him.

 

Iwai Takuto stopped drawing as his eyes became blurry once again. He curse softly to himself as he reached up to wipe at the tears that were impeding his vision. He had to stop this, or he’d never get anything done. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d tried to conceal his tears and the depression that was causing them from everyone else, and so far he thought that he was doing a pretty good job. Although he suspected that the King might have seen him crying this afternoon, and that worried him a bit. Niwa was a persistent person. He’d never stop bugging Iwai until he found out what was making him unhappy. The artist sighed as he ran his hand through his shoulder-length smoke-grey locks. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about this. The pain was just too fresh. He wanted to work this out by himself.

“Hey, Iwai-senpai!” caroled a sharp young voice. Iwai hurriedly blotted the rest of the tears from his eyes before he turned to greet Taki. The redhead darted between the tables of the Art Room, holding aloft a piece of paper triumphantly. “I have a message for you from the King!” he said, grinning.

Iwai felt his heart fall into his stomach. :Uh-oh: he thought. :He did see me crying. This is not good:

Taki presented the piece of paper to him with a flourish. He took it with fingers that were shaking a little, and opened it. He blinked at it – it was an invitation. An invitation to come to the Student Council room tonight at seven for a surprise. Iwai frowned at the paper. “A surprise?” he said, looking up at Taki. “What does that mean?”

The red-headed messenger shrugged. “I don’t know, Iwai-senpai,” he replied cheerfully. “I was just told to deliver the message, I wasn’t let in on the secret. If you want to know, you’ll just have to show up at seven, won’t you?”

Iwai wasn’t surprised that Taki had read the missive. He looked down at the paper as he considered whether he should go or not. But the truth was, the King had managed to pique his interest. He wanted to know what the surprise was. And the only way to find out was to show up at the Student Council room. Much as he feared that Niwa would try to get out of him what was upsetting him, he was still being eaten up with curiosity. Something that the King would count on, of course. He sighed. “Very well, tell Niwa-san that I’ll be there at seven,” he told Taki.

The redhead nodded briskly. “I’ll tell him,” he said before he skimmed away as quickly as he had come, leaving Iwai sitting in front of his easel with a small frown on his face. One good thing, his curiosity over what he was going to find tonight had taken his mind off of his sadness. The King had accomplished his objective, at least for a little while.

 

Iwai approached the door of the Student Council Room rather nervously that night. He had changed out of his school uniform and into a rather plain dress shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. He knocked timidly on the door, and heard Niwa’s cheerful voice call from within : “Come in!”

He pushed the door open, finding the interior of the room to be rather dim. The only light was coming from the pair of candles that were sitting on a dazzling white tablecloth, which was draped over a small circular table. The table was set with some fine china and silver cutlery, as well as two crystal wine glasses. A tiny bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase served as a center piece. Iwai’s light-gold eyes widened a little as he took in the romantic-looking setting.

“Welcome, Iwai-san,” Niwa’s voice came out of the shadows, and when he emerged from them Iwai was startled to see that he was wearing a tuxedo. He looked amazingly handsome in this outfit, like the perfect dream lover come to life.

“Niwa-san,” Iwai said uncertainly. What did the King mean by all this? Surely he knew that Iwai had a huge crush on Shinomiya Koji, the dorm leader and President of the Archery Club. He wasn’t trying to romance him, was he? 

Niwa chuckled good-naturedly when he saw the expression on Iwai’s face. “Don’t look at me like that” he said in amusement. “I won’t try to eat you, I swear. It’s just that you’ve seemed a bit down, lately, and I thought that this might cheer you up. I know how romantic you are, Iwai-san. This seemed like the perfect way to give you a pick-me-up.”

Iwai relaxed at his words and the friendly tone they were spoken in. This was just like Niwa – to know enough about his personality to think of something appropriate for him. The King just genuinely liked people, and he could read them like a book. This little supper was, indeed, the perfect thing for Iwai’s rather romantic nature. He smiled softly as he said: “Arigatou, Niwa-san. This is beautiful.”

Niwa grinned at him. “ I thought you’d like it,” he said in satisfaction. “Come and sit down,” he went over to pull out a chair for Iwai, who gracefully sat on it. Then he went over and sat down in the other chair across the table from the artist, picking up a silver bell. He rang this bell with a wink for Iwai, and the door opened to admit Taki and several other students, all laden with trays of food. In addition, Taki carried a bottle of wine in his hand.

“You like Merlot, don’t you?” Niwa said to Iwai. The artist nodded, amazed that Niwa knew so much about him.

Niwa took the bottle of wine from Taki when the messenger would have poured it himself. “Forget it, squirt,” the King said amiably to the redhead. “Scram,” he added, which made Taki look annoyed. But he thought of the food vouchers the King was paying him in, and left with good grace. Niwa poured the wine into the glasses, as the students served the food onto the plates. Iwai smiled when he saw that they were being served lobster, one of his favorite foods. Really, Niwa knew him so well that it was astonishing.

They ate mostly in companionable silence, making desultory conversation only once in awhile. Iwai found that he was enjoying himself, and he forgot for a time about the oppressive sadness eating at him. Niwa watched his face shrewdly from across the table, feeling satisfied when he saw how Iwai’s lovely light-gold eyes glowed with a soft happiness. The artist had always had very expressive eyes, and Niwa could always tell what he was thinking just by looking into them. He sipped the wine, concealing a grimace, for he didn’t care for Merlot. But since it was Iwai’s favorite, he’d endure it cheerfully. He had a flask of Scotch back in his dorm room, which would take the rather sour taste of the wine out of his mouth later.

Iwai lingered over the dessert, which was a chocolate mousse that was rich and heavenly. After he took the last bite, he set down his spoon with a contented sigh and smiled at Niwa. “Thank you so much, Niwa-san,” he said gratefully. “That was wonderful.”

“I’m glad that you liked it,” Niwa replied. “But now…” he leaned forward and rested his elbow on the tablecloth. “Can you tell me why you were crying today, Iwai-san?” he asked gently.

Iwai jumped. He’d almost forgotten the fact that Niwa might have seen him crying this afternoon, and to have the subject broached so abruptly set him off balance. Under the steady gaze of Niwa’s friendly grey eyes, the artist found himself blurting out a confession. “I…got some bad news recently,” he admitted before he could stop himself. “M-my Grandmother, who helped to raise me, is dying of cancer. They say that she doesn’t have more than a month left. I just…” he put a hand up to cover his face as tears prickled in the backs of his eyes again.

“Poor baby,” Niwa said sympathetically as he got to his feet and circled the table. He gently pulled Iwai to his feet and enveloped the artist in a tender hug. “Go ahead and cry it out,” the King said compassionately to the artist. “I understand, Iwai-san. When my Dad died, I felt like my whole world had come to an end.”

His words and his strong arms both made Iwai break down. He sobbed against Niwa’s broad chest, his face buried in the fabric of the tuxedo. Niwa stroked his ash-grey hair gently, saying nothing else. He lent only his support while Iwai cried out his grief and pain, his own eyes tearing up a little. When Iwai was finally done, he rested a bit against Niwa’s chest with his red, swollen eyes closed. “There,” Niwa said. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Iwai nodded silently. He did feel better for having talked to someone else, and the crying had helped too even though it had given him a massive headache. “Arigatou, Niwa-san,” he mumbled against Niwa’s chest.

“No problem,” the King answered, and Iwai knew that it wasn’t. Niwa just liked to help people.

Iwai raised his head to smile up at Niwa gratefully. The King looked down into his blotched, tear-stained face, and felt his breath come short suddenly. He experienced a weird sensation that ran through his whole body, and he found himself unable to look away from Iwai’s golden eyes. :What the hell is happening to me?: he wondered rather frantically. He saw Iwai’s eyes widen, and realized that the artist felt whatever was passing between them as well. The artist stared up at him, and his lovely mouth opened a little as he found himself gasping for breath.

:Oh, damn: Niwa thought in a kind of mesmerized horror. He knew that he was going to kiss Iwai, that he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He bent his head and closed his mouth over the artist’s, and Iwai made a choked sound in the back of his throat as he returned the kiss helplessly. Niwa’s arms tightened around him as he plundered the sweet mouth under his, and heat seared through him. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, or how fast that lust had risen in him. And in Iwai, as well, if the soft moans coming from the artist’s throat were any indication.

Dimly, through the firestorm of desire washing through him, Iwai realized that he was kissing the King. What was he doing? What was happening? He felt as though his head were going to explode. As Niwa’s tongue swept into his mouth, he was ready to surrender himself totally to passion and the man holding him so tightly. But some little part of himself felt a surge of fear over this sudden and unreasonable happening. He found the strength to push Niwa away, making the King stagger a little with the force of it. The grey eyes were muzzy and puzzled. “What is it, Iwai? What’s the matter?” he asked urgently.

Iwai shook his head to clear it. “I…I can’t do this,” he said, his voice shaking.

Niwa frowned. “Why not?” he asked.

Iwai gasped. “B-because…you’re my friend!” he cried in confusion.

Niwa shrugged. While he’d been taken aback by his sudden reaction to Iwai, he had swiftly recovered. “So?” he said gently. “Can’t friends also be lovers, Iwai?”

Iwai made a frantic sound in the back of his throat as he began to back towards the door. “No, no, no!” he chanted, more to himself than to refute Niwa’s terrifying statement.

“Iwai…” Niwa held out his hand. 

The artist stared at it as though it were a venomous serpent. “No!” he cried again, louder this time. He turned and ran out the door, hearing Niwa call after him as he bolted.

The King watched Iwai dash out of the room. He sensed why Iwai had run – he was scared. He could understand that completely. But he’d never been one for letting fear get in the way of things he really wanted. And as of two minutes ago, Iwai had been added to that list. He’d let him run for now, but not for long. Eventually, he’d get what he wanted. There was a reason why he was known as the King around BL Academy. :Hail to the King, Baby: Niwa thought with a huge grin. :Hail to the King:


	2. Chapter 2

Iwai sat on the side of his bed in his dorm room, hugging himself as he stared at nothing with wide golden eyes. He was shaking faintly, the tremors running through his muscles. His brain felt pulped. He just couldn’t understand what had happened in the Student Council room. Why had he reacted the way he had when Niwa kissed him? What had made Niwa kiss him in the first place? And why, oh why, had it felt so damn good? He couldn’t answer any of these questions. And his mind was in turmoil because of that fact.

There were two things that scared him the most about this situation. One, he already yearned for more of Niwa’s kisses. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to resist. And the second, scarier thing – he knew just how persistent the King was. Once he set his mind on something, nothing could stop him. So Iwai knew that Niwa wouldn’t just let this go. And with his already crumbling resolve, who knew how long it would take for the King’s insistent charm to break it altogether?

The artist groaned, burying his face in his hands. He could try to avoid Niwa, but BL Academy’s campus, while large, wasn’t infinite. He wouldn’t be able to keep out of his way forever. Especially if – no when! Niwa sought him out. If nothing else, he’d be able to corner Iwai in the Art Room. He’d never before regretted being President of the Art Club. He wondered dully if he shouldn’t just resign from his post.

No, that wouldn’t help. Nothing would. The only thing to do would be to withdraw from BL Academy altogether, and he didn’t want to do that. He had all of the facilities he needed here to pursue his art, and he had many friends among the student body. So he’d stay, and eventually he’d give in to Niwa. That was the reality that he had to accept. He suspected that all the King would have to do was touch him again, and he’d be lost. He sighed behind his hands before dropping them into his lap and twisting them together. What kind of game were the Gods playing with him? Why the King? Why not Shinomiya, who he’d longed after since his freshman year? He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time at the workings of Fate.

 

Niwa was patient. He didn’t go near Iwai for the next week, instead busying himself with Student Council business. He knew that Nakajima was astonished at the fact that he was actually doing his job for once, even the paperwork he loathed. But he needed something to take his mind off of the artist, and also off of his raging libido. It was so bad that he was masturbating three times a day, and it still didn’t feel like it was enough. He lusted after Iwai ferociously, and he wanted nothing more than to just drag him off somewhere private and fuck him into a pile of goo. Even the boring paperwork helped a little to take his mind off of his lustful fantasies about the things he wanted to do to Iwai.

He was bent over another heap of it one evening when Nakajima walked into the room. He frowned at the sight of his friend acting contrary to his normal behavior once again. He reached up to push his glasses up his nose as he stared keenly at Niwa’s bent head. Something was going on with the King, and Nakajima’s natural curiosity was raging. He meant to find out what was going on, no matter what it took. He walked over and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, crossing one leg over the other and resting his hand on his knee as he pinned Niwa’s head with his laser sharp sapphire gaze.

The King ignored his silent scrutiny for a time, but Nakajima’s eyes felt like they were boring through his skull. He finally set his pen down and raised his head to meet that shrewd gaze. “Is there something I can help you with, Hide?” he asked in a quasi polite tone of voice.

Nakajima nodded his head very slightly. “You can tell me what’s going on” he said implacably.

Niwa rested his elbow on the desk top and set his chin in his hand as he stared innocently at his friend. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hide” he said puckishly.

“Of course you don’t” Nakajima replied dryly. “You always behave this way, I simply never noticed before.”

“Behaving in what way?” Niwa asked, raising his brows. He concealed a grin only with difficulty. He liked to tease Nakajima, who could be far too intense and serious for his own good.

Nakajima made an annoyed sound and waved one long, elegant hand at the mound of paperwork that Niwa was presently working on. “That represents at last six months of paperwork that you’ve avoided like the plague until now” he said coolly. ‘But you’ve been working so hard on it that you’ll probably finish it in another few days. That is not normal, Tet-chan. Do you have a terminal disease, or did you find religion in the last week?”

Niwa laughed heartily. “Yes” he chuckled. “I’m currently practicing the ancient Indian religion of Tantra” he said with a sparkling grin.

Nakajima sighed in exasperation. “Are you going to tell me what is going on? If you don’t tell me, then I’ll have to find out some other way. And you know what will happen if I have to do that.”

Niwa knew. Nakajima was a good guy, but he had a cruel streak in him. He’d make the King pay for a very long time if he didn’t just tell him. “I have a problem” he said easily, sitting back in his chair.

Nakajima’s brows drew together. “What sort of problem?”

Niwa’s lips quirked. “I’m currently in lust with someone. Someone unexpected, to say the least. But I’m being cautious, because he’s running scared. I’m leaving him alone for the moment, to let him stew. I figure when I finally do make my move, he’ll fall into my arms.”

Nakajima raised a brow. “I see. And who is this object of your lust, if I may ask?”

Niwa lidded his eyes and looked at his friend with a wicked gleam under them. “Actually it’s you, Hide. You’re just so beautiful, you know. You’re enough to make any man lose his control.”

Nakajima narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?” he replied icily.

Niwa nodded happily. But his eyes widened when Nakajima got up from his chair and circled the desk. “Well, if that’s the case, we can just do it here and now” Nakajima said with a smile that would have frozen a supernova.

“W-what?” The King stared up open mouthed at his approaching friend, a trace of worry in his grey eyes.

“If you lust after me that badly, I can do nothing but give in” Nakajima said, leaning over Niwa’s chair as the King scooted backward in it as though he could somehow push himself out the back of it. “Hide?” he squeaked as Nakajima set his hands on the armrests of the chair and put his face close to his friend’s.

“This won’t hurt a bit” purred Nakajima with a deadly light in his sapphire eyes. “You’ll enjoy every moment, I assure you.”

Niwa made a horrified sound in the back of his throat. “Are you saying…that I should be UKE?!”

Nakajima’s smile widened. “That’s correct. I’ve always thought that you had more than a trace of uke in you, Tet-chan. All you have to do is let him out” he put out his hand to grasp Niwa’s chin in his hand.

“Hide, wait a minute!” Niwa said frantically. “I was just kidding, I swear!”

“Oh really?” Nakajima replied, tightening his fingers on the King’s chin. “You disappoint me, Tet-chan. But I’m afraid that I don’t believe you. Perhaps if you tell me the name of the person that you really lust after, I might. But if you don’t…” the menacing gleam in his sapphire eyes scared Niwa spitless.

“It’s Iwai! Iwai!” he cried, tensing his body to try to break Nakajima’s hold on him.  
His friends dropped his hand and straightened up. “I see” he said. “So you’d rather sleep with that depressing little artist than me? I’m shocked, Tet-chan. Really, I thought you had better taste than that.” He turned and went in a leisurely fashion towards the door.

Niwa recovered a bit and yelled after him: “I’d rather sleep with a fire hydrant than you, Hide! It’d be both warmer AND softer!” He heard a soft chuckle at his words, and he grinned ruefully as he flopped back in his chair. Damn, but Nakajima was good. He’d actually had him believing for a second that he intended to try to make a move on him. And he’d managed to get the name of the person that Niwa really lusted after out of him. The man should be torturer, the King thought with a grin as he went back to his paperwork. Torquemada had nothing on Hide.

 

Iwai set down the charcoal pencil he was using to frown at the picture. This is getting ridiculous, he thought in exasperation. It’d been almost a week, and Niwa hadn’t come near him. He should have felt grateful and happy. Instead, he was getting more and more depressed. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the thought that Niwa didn’t want him. That thought was becoming torturous. He would lie on his dorm bed at night, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. And he would torment himself with thoughts of what would have happened if he’d just given in to the sudden powerful attraction between himself and Niwa.

Perhaps the King had been put off by him running away? Perhaps he’d never come near Iwai again. The artist bit at his lip a little. All throughout this frustrating week that thought had tormented him the most. He was trying to work up the courage to approach Niwa himself, and talk to him about what had happened in the Student Council room. Or, more likely, get down on his knees and beg the man to kiss him again. His hands shook whenever he contemplated this, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was rapidly losing his mind.

Take the sketch on the drawing paper in front of him. It showed a tall, handsome man lounging on a couch with his shirt half unbuttoned and a sexy smile on his lips. Everything that Iwai had produced in the last few days were like this. He had charcoal sketches, ink drawings, and pencil sketches, all depicting Niwa in some sexy pose or other. A few (he felt a blush creep up his cheeks) showed the King stark naked, although he’d had to use his imagination for those. But he was coming to find that he had a vivid imagination when it came to drawing Niwa naked.

He was turning into such a Hentai, Iwai thought as the pink color deepened in his cheeks. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. Even thinking about Niwa had a bad effect on him. Like now – as he stared at the drawing he’d made, he squirmed a little in his seat. The crotch of his uniform pants was becoming rather restrictive. He had to do something soon before this got any worse. Giving in to Niwa, a thing which had seemed so frightening and impossible less than a week ago, seemed now his only salvation. He pushed away from his easel, determined to go and find the King and talk to him.

 

An hour later, Iwai was feeling intensely frustrated. Now that he wanted…no NEEDED to talk to Niwa, he couldn’t find him anywhere. He searched in all of the places that the King was usually to be found, but no dice. He asked everyone he met whether they’d seen the King, and finally Taki told him that Niwa had ridden off into town on his motorcycle this morning. Iwai sighed as he plopped down on a bench and stared sightlessly off across the campus. He was slowly losing his resolve as his courage trickled away.

“Good afternoon, Iwai-san” a quiet voice said over his head.

The artist looked up into the solemn, handsome face of the man he’d had a crush on for so long. Shinomiya was wearing his archery costume and had most likely just come from the range. “Good afternoon, Shinomiya-san” Iwai replied rather sadly. He was just coming to realize that the sight of the archer didn’t make his heart leap anymore, and he felt some regret over the loss.

Shinomiya studied his face. “Are you all right, Iwai-san?” he asked in concern. "You look kind of unhappy.”

Iwai sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m all right, I guess” he said. “It’s just…” he stared off into the distance again, as though he could find the answers to his problem in the trees that bordered the walks.

“Care to talk about it?” Shinomiya asked gently.

“I…” how could he tell the Archery President that he had had an enormous crush on him up until this week? But now he wanted someone else? This was all too personal for him to want to tell it to anyone, let alone the object of his former crush.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine” Shinomiya said gently, accurately reading his reluctance from his expression.

“Gomen, Shinomiya-san” Iwai sighed.

“No need to apologize” the archer looked away idly across the campus. “Ahh ,there’s Niwa-san. That’s good; there’s some Archery Club business that I wanted to talk to him about.”

Iwai lunged up from the bench. “Where?!” he demanded of a startled Shinomiya. “Where is he?!”

“Over there” the astonished archer replied, his mouth opening a little as Iwai followed his pointing finger and then took off at a dead run towards the tall form of the King. What, wondered the puzzled President of the Archery Club, had that been all about?

 

Niwa strolled along the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets, frowning thoughtfully to himself. He was thinking about how he should approach Iwai. He didn’t think that he could hold out much longer, for his patience was wearing mighty thin. He’d have to go about it carefully, for the sensitive artist wouldn’t care for him just throwing himself on him like a horny dog. Perhaps he could think of a romantic way to go about it? Something like the dinner that had set this whole thing in motion in the first place. But what? He considered options as he walked along, deep in thought.

He felt a hand catch at his arm, and he whirled around with his knees bent and his hands in position for a strike. Nakajima sometimes snuck up on him when he was thinking hard, attacking him out of the blue to sharpen his martial arts skills. Or that was why he said he did it, anyway. Niwa thought that he really did it as a sadistic form of pleasure. But his hands dropped to his sides when he saw the startled face of Iwai. The artist looked at him uncertainly, his hands fluttering a little at his breast, his golden eyes rather wide.

Niwa felt a surge of desire run through him just at the sight of the lovely artist. It was even stronger than it had been in the Student Council room, for he was feeling a whole week’s worth of frustration and deprivation on top of it. Iwai said: “Niwa-san?” in a rather trembling voice, and that was it. All plans for a careful seduction or a romantic interlude went out the window. Niwa lunged forward and grabbed Iwai’s upper arms in his hands, pulling him forward enough so that he could lower his head a little and kiss him with all of the pent up desire he felt within himself.

Iwai was stunned. He’d been a little frightened when Niwa whirled around, looking as though he were going to attack him. But when Niwa had seen him, the grey eyes had filled with a darkness that made the artist’s breath come short. When those strong hands closed on him, and he was jerked forward so that that hard mouth could close over his, he was a bit scared. But that faded away under Niwa’s kiss, and he opened his mouth and surrendered totally to the mouth eating at his. He felt a hand close over the back of his head, holding him in place for the searing, world shaking kiss, and Iwai Takuto gave himself over to Niwa Tetsuya without a qualm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot lovin' from the King and his artist, just for my fan Kuroneko. Enjoy!

Iwai sat on the edge of Niwa’s dorm bed, shaking with nervousness. His hands twisted in his lap, and his golden eyes were full of anxiety. Niwa, who was standing over him, looked down at him in concern. He put his fingers under Iwai’s chin to lift it so that he could look deep into those lovely eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?” the King asked him gently. “What’s the matter?”

Iwai shook his head wordlessly. He saw the concern and tenderness in Niwa’s eyes and he struggled to speak past his embarrassment and nervousness. “I…I haven’t…I’ve never…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, but the King immediately understood.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you, Iwai?” he said.

The artist nodded unhappily. The King shook his head in disbelief. “This school must be full of blind people,” he said as he carefully sat down next to Iwai on the bed. “That’s the only possible reason that someone as beautiful and sexy as you could still be a virgin.”

The artist, who was susceptible to sincere flattery, felt a flush of warmth at Niwa’s words. A shy smile moved over his pretty mouth, making the King groan a little in his throat. Iwai was just so unconsciously sexy. He leaned over and turned Iwai’s face towards his. “I promise that I’ll be gentle,” he said gravely to his soon-to-be lover. He stroked his thumb over the artist’s delicate jaw line. “Unless you don’t want to do this?” he added. “If you don’t, I’ll understand.”

Iwai shook his head a little as he met Niwa’s eyes. “No, no…I want this,” he said hurriedly, blushing a deep rose color as he made this admission. “It’s just that I…” his hands twisted together again.

Niwa put his hand in Iwai’s lap and stilled the motion of his hands. Comfortingly he began to massage Iwai’s hand with his own. “You’re scared,” he said. The artist nodded anxiously.

“Do you trust me, Iwai?” Niwa asked. The artist nodded at once. The King felt warmth coil in his belly at this adamant gesture. “Well, then, trust me when I say that you’ll like this. I’ll take this slow and gentle, baby, and if you ever want me to stop you can just say so and I will. All right?”

Iwai shivered, but he also nodded in acceptance of Niwa’s statement. The King grinned triumphantly. “Good,” he said. He leaned forward a little. "Now kiss me, sweet thing, and we’ll get this show started.”

Iwai unhesitantly pressed his lips to Niwa’s. He wasn’t the least bit anxious or afraid over the hot, deep kisses that he shared with the King. He could have happily continued to experience those forever, and he opened his mouth to Niwa’s questing tongue with a soft moan. He felt one of the King’s strong hands cup the back of his head to hold him in place as he plundered his mouth, and he dimly felt the other one begin to stroke over the fabric of his jacket as it headed for his tie. But he was already pretty far gone from the pleasure of Niwa’s kisses, so he was only barely aware when that hand began to pull his tie off with nimble dexterity.

Niwa drank in the sounds he was drawing from Iwai’s throat, and he pushed his tongue deep into the artist’s mouth. He laved the roof of it, and then stroked over Iwai’s tongue with his own. He coaxed that artist’s tongue out to play with his, and they tangled together as he finished removing Iwai’s school uniform tie. Distracting the poor, nervous virgin with his searing kisses, Niwa let his other hand drift down to begin to unbutton Iwai’s shirt. The artist wasn’t coherent enough to protest, and his long slender hands gripped Niwa’s shoulders as the King continued to kiss him ferociously.

Niwa worked as he always did, swiftly and dexterously. He finished the last button, pushing the plackets of the shirt open to bare the pale, perfect skin of Iwai’s chest. The artist gave a muffled cry as Niwa’s fingers began to slide over his bare skin in caressing circles. He drew yet another cry from the artist when his fingers reached one pale pink nipple and delicately pinched it. Iwai’s head flew back, breaking their kiss, as he cried “Niwa!” The King grinned proudly as he moved his other hand up to close his fingers over Iwai’s left nipple, as well. He used his thumbs to stroke over the now erect nubs, making Iwai arch his back into this caress.

The artist was so lovely, Niwa thought. His pale skin was already flushed, and he panted desperately for breath as Niwa’s fingers drove him crazy. His lovely golden eyes were half glazed with pleasure. His fingers tightened on the fabric of Niwa’s jacket helplessly. “Does that feel good, baby?” the King asked tenderly, flicking at Iwai’s nipples with his fingertips just to hear him moan.

The artist could barely nod. His fear was fading already under Niwa’s insistent caresses. Niwa smiled as he leaned forward to kiss the side of Iwai's long, elegant neck. He kissed and licked at the pale expanse, while the artist titled his head instinctively to give him better access. His hands abandoned Iwai’s nipples at last, making him give a moan of protest. They slid up to push the jacket off of Iwai’s shoulders, leaving him wearing only the unbuttoned shirt. He bent his head further and sucked at the juncture of Iwai’s neck and shoulder as he ran his hands down the artist’s back to dip his fingers into the waistband of his trousers.

As Niwa suckled at his collarbone, Iwai tentatively reached up with his shaking hands to begin to unknot Niwa’s tie. His fingers fumbled so badly that he had trouble undoing it, and he had barely pulled it off before he was totally distracted from his quest to undress the King by the feel of Niwa’s mouth running over his chest. It closed over one of his nipples, and he cried out loudly as his back bent to offer himself more fully to that insouciant mouth. Niwa’s tongue lapped lazily at the rucked nipple, as his strong fingers pulled Iwai's shirt from his trousers in the back so that he could run his hands under it and begin to caress the skin of his long pale back.

Iwai panted wildly as Niwa moved to attend to his other nipple with his mouth. The King’s hand stroked his back from his shoulders to his lower back, and then slid around his waist to come to rest on the fastening of his trousers. He felt the belt buckle coming undone under Niwa’s fingers, but he was too wrapped up in the feel of that warm, moist mouth licking at his tender, sensitive nipple to care or protest. Niwa bit very gently at the nub while his fingers pulled down the zipper, and Iwai threw his head back again as his fingers clutched at Niwa’s broad shoulders frantically.

Niwa raised his head to look at Iwai’s face as he insinuated a finger into the opening of his trousers and stroked it lightly over the bulge under his briefs. He adored the sight of Iwai’s mouth opening as he struggled for breath, his golden eyes going half lidded, and the loud cries he drew from him at this butterfly caress. Iwai bucked his hips up at Niwa, silently begging for more. The King gave him what he wanted, rubbing at his confined cock through the fabric of the briefs. Pre-cum stained the white cloth as Iwai cried out: “Onegai, Niwa!” His cock was so hard that it hurt, and it throbbed painfully within his briefs as Niwa’s fingers stroked it.

“Lift your hips” The King directed him. Iwai blinked at him for a moment before his brain finally comprehended Niwa’s order. Then he did as he was told so that Niwa could pull his trousers off of his hips. The briefs went with them, and Iwai gave a soft cry of relief as his cock sprang free of the restricting material.

Niwa yanked the trousers and briefs the rest of the way off of Iwai. He tossed them impatiently on the floor before returning to his lover. He roughly finished undressing the artist by pushing the unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders. Iwai blushed a little as he was divested of his last piece of clothing, but he was too far gone to protest in any way. Languidly he looked up at Iwai as the King stood looking down at his naked body with hungry eyes. Niwa ran his eyes over the pale naked beauty, marveling at how perfect Iwai was. Then he met those darkened golden eyes once more, ands he groaned in his throat at the lust that gleamed in their depths.

He descended on top of Iwai, pushing him back onto the bed. Iwai cried out as Niwa’s still clothed body pressed down on his, feeling the hard body under the fabric. He wrapped his arms around the King’s broad back as Niwa kissed him again, at the same time rubbing the bulge in his trousers against Iwai’s erection. The artist moaned into his mouth at the feel of this, and pushed his hips upward to get more of the sensation. Niwa lifted his head with a last lick at Iwai’s sweet lips, gazing down into the dazed golden eyes of the man laying under him. He smiled as he began to slide backwards, relishing the choked cry he drew from Iwai at the friction of his clothes rubbing against his bare skin.

He bent his head and put out his tongue to run down the middle of Iwai’s breastbone. The artist dug his fingers into the cloth of the bed spread on either side of him as that relentless tongue ran in a trail down the middle on his chest and then down his stomach. Niwa moved backwards until he was kneeling on the floor in between Iwai’s legs, which were hanging off the side of the bed. He fastened his eyes on the artist’s face as he put a hand on one of his hips and tangled the other one in the soft grey pubic hair. He never took his eyes off of Iwai as he dipped his head and took his cock into his mouth.

The artist bucked off the bed with a sharp cry at the feel of Niwa’s mouth closing over him. Ohh, ohh, ohh! Niwa began to suck lightly at him, and he felt as though his brain were going to explode. It was so good, so good! He nearly shrieked Niwa’s name as the King swirled his tongue over the pink tip, and then began to bob his head up and down slowly. Iwai thrust his hips up into that encasing mouth desperately, his head flying from side to side on the bed spread as Niwa’s hand slid down to palm his balls in time with his sucking. He stroked them carefully, even as he pushed down to take Iwai’s entire penis into his mouth. He deep throated the artist, and Iwai lost both his breath and his mind as he lunged upward and came with a wild cry into Niwa’s welcoming mouth.

The King had pulled back just in time when he realized that the artist was going to come. He kept only the head in his mouth as he cleverly sucked the last of Iwai’s semen from his body. The artist fell back against the bed, panting heavily, his golden eyes staring rather blankly at the ceiling. Niwa raised his head, a satisfied expression on his face, licking at his lips to clean the traces of Iwai’s sperm from them in a leisurely manner. He stroked the artist’s hip tenderly with one hand as he waited for him to recover from his orgasm.

Iwai finally managed to focus on the room once again. He saw that Niwa had gotten to his feet and was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. The artist watched as he removed his jacket and the shirt, revealing the muscular slightly bronzed torso that Iwai remembered from the time they were at the baths when they had Ito Keita’s welcoming party. Niwa gave him a sexy smile, gazing down at him out of half-lidded grey eyes as he unsnapped the fastening at the waistband of his trousers. Slowly, teasingly, he slid down the zipper. Iwai felt as though his breath was being stolen as he stared avidly at those moving hands. Niwa’s fingers closed over the waistband and began to inch the trousers down his hips.

Iwai began to pant as Niwa revealed more and more of himself. First narrow hips, then a bush of dark brown pubic hair, and then…his golden eyes widened to see that Niwa wasn’t wearing any underwear, and he gaped at the sight of the King’s erect cock. Beautifully formed, it rested nearly on his belly when it sprang free of the fabric of his trousers. Niwa was a thing of beauty, and Iwai’s artistic soul appreciated that masculine beauty. His sketches had not done his lover justice. He couldn’t wait to be able to do sketches from real life, he thought, a faint blush rising in his cheeks.

Niwa took himself in hand and lazily stroked his own cock as he looked down on the sexy creature still sprawled out on his bed. He almost licked his lips in anticipation as he moved to kneel on the bedspread beside Iwai. He lounged next to him like a resting panther, putting out a hand to trace patterns on the artist’s sensitized skin. He bent his head and softly kissed Iwai on the mouth, as the artist tentatively put out a hand to touch his belly. He stroked his fingertips over the bare skin, making Niwa groan in the back of his throat at even this contact. He put his hand on Iwai’s hip and encouraged him to roll sideways, pulling his long body up against his own. Their naked cocks ground together, and Iwai moaned as his penis jerked and began to come erect again. Niwa rubbed himself against the artist to help this process along, drinking in Iwai’s soft cries as he bit at his shoulder lightly with his teeth.

“Niwa,” breathed his lover, nosing into the crook of his shoulder as one of Niwa’s hands slid over his hips to cup his buttock.

“So sweet,” the King said roughly, running his tongue along Iwai’s collarbone. The artist shuddered at his words and his caresses. He hesitantly opened his mouth and put out his pink tongue to return the favor, finding that he liked the taste of the King’s slightly salty skin. He also liked the fact that he drew a quiet groan from Niwa’s mouth, as his fingers tightened on Iwai’s buttock involuntarily.

Niwa let his fingers drift to the cleft in between Iwai’s buttocks. The artist made a soft sound as one of Niwa’s fingers reached the tender puckered ring of muscle and began to rub over it. His fingers curled and dug into Niwa’s upper arm as the pleasure of the caressing finger made his hips begin to sway on the bed spread. “You like that, huh?” the King’s voice was as caressing as his fingertip. Iwai nodded silently, his soft ash grey hair rubbing against Niwa’s chest.

“Well then, you’ll love this,” The King gently disengaged himself and got of the bed, making Iwai give a small cry of disappointment. He turned his head to see Niwa open a drawer in his small dresser to retrieve a tube of something. He turned to see the artist looking at him in puzzlement, ands he grinned as he held up the tube for him to see. “Never leave home without it” he said, walking back over to the bed so that Iwai could read the side of it. A deep rose blush spread over the artist’s porcelain cheeks when he saw that it was a tube of edible chocolate flavored lube. He buried his burning face in the bed spread as Niwa chuckled lustily over his head. “You’re so cute when you get embarrassed” Niwa growled.

Iwai wouldn’t lift his head, so he jumped when he felt Niwa’s hands settle on his hips and turn him so that he was lying on his belly on the bed. His cock rubbed against the bed spread in a rough caress, ands he moaned at the feel of it. He felt Niwa’s hands begin to stroke and cup his ass cheeks, and he gasped. Then he did it again as he felt those hands spread him open. Something cool and moist was spread over that tender secret part of him, and he moaned at how good this felt. And then…oh Gods!

Iwai shrieked as Niwa’s tongue ran boldly over the puckered ring, beginning to lick the lube back off. The artist couldn’t believe how this felt. He pushed his ass desperately back at the King, screams of pleasure torn from his throat as Niwa rimmed him with tender ferocity. And just when he thought it couldn’t feel any better, that he was going to die just from this forbidden caress, he felt Niwa’s tongue push into his body. He lost his breath, and gasping cries panted out of his chest as Niwa fucked him with his tongue. He felt half dead and boneless by the time the King removed his tongue with a last lick at his twitching asshole.

Niwa spurted more of the lube onto his fingers, taking advantage of Iwai’s languorous relaxation to push his fingertip into the tight space within his body. The artist made a choked sound when he felt the finger breech him, but he made no other protest as Niwa began to move it back and forth within him. Slowly he worked it in deeper, periodically pulling it out to add more lube. He wanted to use as much as possible with his lovely virgin. He wanted to cause him as little pain as possible. He wanted Iwai to feel only pleasure.

He worked a second finger inside of him at last, and Iwai found that it didn’t hurt. Instead, those fingers felt good as they bore into him, stroking over the tissue within his body. Niwa scissored his fingers to stretch him, loosening him up for what was to come. When he finally added a third finger, Iwai gave a quiet cry of pain at the sting. But when Niwa stopped his fingers and asked: "Should I take them out?” the artist shook his head no. It had been a minor sting, and it faded away completely as Niwa resumed moving his fingers in and out of him.

Finally, the King had had enough. He was going to lose it if he didn’t get inside of Iwai soon. He encouraged his lover to roll over on the bed spread once again, because he wanted to see his lovely face as the artist experienced his first time. Iwai looked up at him out of his soft, glazed golden eyes, and Niwa lifted his legs with a feeling of relief to wrap them around his waist. He lubed up his own cock, tilting his head back a little at the feel of his own hand on himself. Then he reached down to lift Iwai’s hips, looking down into his face as he asked tenderly: “Are you ready, baby?”

The artist said softy, “Hai, Niwa,” The King gritted his teeth as he took himself in hand and began to prod at the entrance into Iwai’s body with the tip. He finally pushed into Iwai’s body with a soft gasp, his face twisted at the feel of that hot tight passage closing over the head of his erection.

Iwai moaned, half in pain and half in pleasure. While the stretching and the burning feeling were uncomfortable, he sensed that behind the pain was immense pleasure. He lifted his hips pleadingly, and Niwa took this as a signal to work more of himself inside of Iwai. He stopped again after he’d pushed another inch of himself into that tight space, one hand holding up the artist’s hips as the other caressed his stomach and thighs. He took in Iwai’s soft cries and he watched the way his face twisted into a grimace. He waited patiently for the artist to adjust to the feel of someone inside of him, and after a moment Iwai’s face relaxed and his mouth opened a little as he panted. He pushed more of himself into his lover, slowly but surely working himself inside until he was fully seated within him. Then he waited again, reaching between Iwai’s legs to stroke at his cock to take his mind off of the pain.

The artist moaned at the feel of Niwa’s hand on him, and he felt the pain fading away. He began to crave movement, and he instinctively lifted his hips again as he cried: “Onegai, Niwa!” demanding what he needed.

The King was happy to give it to him. He pulled out a bit before he surged back into Iwai, and the artist cried out as his head went back at the sensation of Niwa moving within him. Slowly but surely he built up the pace of his thrusting, and the friction began to overwhelm Iwai. He clutched at the bedspread with fingers gone nearly white as he gasped breathlessly as Niwa began to move faster. Nothing could feel better than this, this was the ultimate peak of pleasure…or so he thought. But then the tip of Niwa’s cock ran over a place inside of him on a particularly hard thrust, and Iwai shrieked as he literally saw stars. His hips lunged up towards Niwa as the King’s cock began to prod his prostate over and over again. Niwa’s lips were pulled back from his teeth as he thrust savagely into Iwai’s beautiful body.

Iwai’s screams of pleasure were bringing Niwa closer and closer to the edge. He reached down to grasp Iwai’s cock in his hand, needing to finish him off. He stroked at it with a firm grip, choking out hoarsely: “Come for me, beautiful.”

The artist arched off the bed, tense as a bowstring, as he came hard with a last loud scream of pleasure. His semen splashed out over Niwa’s hand and his own stomach as the King drove into his responsive body and finally came to his own end with a loud groan. Niwa shuddered at the force of his coming, his head hanging. Iwai lay panting on the bed, reduced to an inert mass by the stunning orgasm that his lover had pulled out of him. “Oh, Gods” Niwa husked, his eyes closed.

Iwai could only agree with this prayer. That had been…there were no words for it. He finally got enough energy back to lift his eyelids a bit and look up at his new lover. Niwa smiled lazily down at him. One of his hands stroked Iwai’s right thigh idly. “So what do you think of sex, Iwai, love?” the King asked him, his grey eye full of tender amusement. “Think you might want to do that again soon?”

Iwai found his voice. “It has it’s good points,” he conceded, which made Niwa chuckle. “I think that I could get used to it. But I’m not sure. You’ll definitely have to give me more examples before I make up my mind, Niwa.”

Niwa leaned forward between his legs, setting his hands on either side of Iwai as he kissed him. “I think I can do that,” he said against Iwai’s lips. “Starting now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, Kuro! Enjoy!

“Iwai,” the artist was broken out of his vague dreaming state by a touch on his shoulder and Niwa’s familiar voice speaking to him. He blinked as he came back to the real world, turning his head to look at his lover. Niwa had an expression on his face that was both amused and affectionately exasperated. A plate was pushed in front of Iwai, as Niwa said firmly: “Eat something”

The artist absent-mindedly picked up his fork and began to eat, watched over by his lover to make sure that he didn’t go totally off into his dream world again and stop. Niwa leaned back in his chair and shook his head. If he wasn’t reminded, Iwai often forgot to take care of himself. He’d get busy drawing or painting, and come to some twelve or fifteen hours later wondering why he felt faint and dizzy. In the six weeks that they’d been lovers, Niwa had gotten into the habit of eating breakfast with Iwai to make sure that he actually ate, and he brought him lunch every day at the Art Room or wherever he’d wandered off to sketch at. Sometimes he had to search diligently, for Iwai would take off into the woods to draw wildflowers or leaves and forget to tell anyone where he was going.

Niwa knew that Nakajima would have been swiftly driven crazy by Iwai’s behavior. But he found a certain satisfaction in taking care of his lover, a far more personal type than he normally derived from helping others. Since they’d been together, Iwai hadn’t passed out once from hunger. And besides, Niwa had found that secluded little glades were great places to have romantic trysts. Or, in other words, having sex up against trees or on a blanket that he had taken to bringing with him when he went searching for his M.I.A lover. One sure fire way to bring Iwai from his trances was to kiss him, and Niwa had used that trick often on the short time that they’d been lovers.

He thought with a lusty grin of the ‘private sketches’ that Iwai was doing of him. The artist was way too embarrassed by them to show them to anyone but the King, which suited Niwa fine. If Nakajima ever saw them, he’d never live it down. He threw his arm over Iwai’s shoulders, letting his hand stroke the fabric of his uniform jacket. All in all, he was decidedly pleased with life right now. Being with Iwai was far more fulfilling than he ever would have given it credit for. The artist was just the right blend of needy without being clingy, and sweetly innocent, as well as softly sexy. His quiet, sometimes melancholy nature balanced out Niwa’s own loud, boisterous, larger-than-life nature almost perfectly. Yes, the King was feeling great. The only cloud on his horizon was the fact that his best friend still didn’t get along with his lover very well, and so Nakajima tended to avoid him when he was with Iwai. But he was sure that he could work that out in time. Life was good.

 

Iwai would most likely have echoed his sentiments if he ever thought about it. Being with Niwa had made his life so much brighter, although he didn’t consciously think about the changes. He was just terribly grateful whenever the King made sure that he ate, or did little things for his comfort. And Niwa nourished his romantic nature, taking him on picnics or placing a single rose on his pillow so that it was the first thing that he saw when he woke up. The second thing was Niwa’s smiling, handsome face, and that double pleasure was enough to start his morning off right. Niwa had been his rock when his grandmother succumbed to her cancer, going to the funeral with him and giving him a shoulder to cry on afterward. He couldn’t even remember anymore what life was like before the King. He smiled dreamily as he thought of his lover, making Niwa draw in a sharp breath at the expression on his face, and the unconsciously sexy look in his eyes. Damn, but Iwai was hard on his equilibrium!

Perhaps, after breakfast, Niwa thought, he’d drag his lover off for a little early morning nookie before he had to go to class. It’d have to be a quickie…so maybe in the bathroom? Anticipation swirled through him, and he waited impatiently for Iwai to finish eating.

 

 

Niwa was humming to himself later as he strode across campus. This morning had been good, but too quick. He thought that he might just drag Iwai off into the woods for a much more extended version when he took him his lunch today. He was so wrapped up in his pleasant thoughts about this that he almost ran into Nakajima. “Watch where you’re going, Tet-chan,” drawled the familiar voice of his friend.

Niwa came to a halt. “Sorry, Hide,” he said remorsefully, scratching at his head sheepishly. “Guess I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Hmmm,” his friend’s sharp sapphire eyes studied him coolly. “How goes the idyllic life with your morbid little sketcher?”

Niwa grinned, his grey eyes sparkling. "It’s going great,” he said enthusiastically.

“I can see that,” Nakajima tilted his head a little. “I don’t know whether to be sick or envious, Tet-chan,” he said thoughtfully.

Niwa’s brows went up. "What do you mean?” He asked curiously.

“Of you finding your One True Love. Especially with the soppy, depressive Iwai. I still find it hard to believe, to tell you the truth.”

Niwa stilled at his words. A look almost of panic flashed over his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hide,” he said uneasily.

Nakajima raised an eyebrow in faint disbelief. “Well, it’s fairly obvious that you’re head over heels for the little wet blanket. It’s frankly rather sickening to watch you fawn all over him. But I suppose congratulations are in order, anyway.”

Niwa felt his stomach begin to churn. While he enjoyed being with Iwai and the sex was fabulous – surely he wasn’t…he put a hand up over his mouth as he tried to convince himself that what Nakajima had noticed wasn’t true. But he couldn’t. Hide was just too sharp-eyed. In spite of his active love life, the King had never been in love before. He hadn’t recognized the symptoms for what they were. And the thought that he was in love with Iwai scared him spitless. Being in love implied commitment, and a far more serious relationship than he was prepared for. What was he going to do?

Nakajima’s sharp eyes watched the emotions that flashed through his friend’s eyes. Annoyance and exasperation flowed through him. It was just like the King to light-heartedly fall into a serious relationship, and then try to think of a way out of it when he realized just how serious it was. Much as he didn’t care for the fragile artist, he knew that his careless words were going to cause him a lot of pain if he allowed Niwa to do what he just knew that the King was contemplating. No one deserved to be dumped BECAUSE his lover was in love with him, and scared of that fact.

Nakajima flowed into a fighting stance. “Tet-chan,” he said in his coldest, hardest voice. 

Niwa responded to this tone, looking up in surprise. “What?” he asked when he saw Hide preparing to attack him.

“You know I’m better than you,” Nakajima drawled frostily. “And so you know that if I want to, I could beat the living daylights out of you. And that is exactly what will happen to you if you try to break off your relationship with Iwai just because of what I said to you. Don’t try and lie and tell me that that isn’t what you were thinking of doing, either. I can see it in your face. For every ounce of emotional pain that you cause him, I’ll return it in physical pain. That is a promise.”

Niwa’s mouth hung open as he stared at his friend. Of course Nakajima was serious about this – he was always serious about everything. Including his wicked sense of humor. He was going to be in a world of hurt if he tried to break up with Iwai. He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “All right, all right,” he said. “I won’t break up with him. Are you happy?”

“No,” Nakajima said as he rose from his fighting stance gracefully. “Because I know that you’ll try to distance yourself emotionally from him now, even if you don’t dump him outright. Tet-chan, think for a moment. What you have been given is a gift. A precious gift that not everyone receives in their lifetimes. If you throw it away carelessly, then you are an utter fool. And despite what an idiot you can be, you’ve never been a fool. Accept what the Gods have given you, and be happy.”

Niwa was taken aback by this speech. He’d never heard Hide talk like this before. “I…” he didn’t know what to say.

“Think about it,” Nakajima replied calmly as he began to walk away. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he added ominously.

The King turned to watch his friend’s tall retreating figure. His thoughts were in turmoil. He began to walk again, slowly, while his brain processed everything that Nakajima had said to him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and a small frown marred his usually smiling face as he strolled along deep in thought. He didn’t respond when Taki called a greeting to him, and the redhead stared after him with in puzzlement. What was wrong with the King? He wondered.

 

 

Iwai was putting the final touches on a painting when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of his lover, and smiled in greeting as he lay down his brush. He noticed that Niwa had an uncharacteristically solemn look on his face, and his brows furrowed as he asked quietly: "What’s the matter, Niwa?”

The King seemed to draw himself together. He summoned up a smile for Iwai.

“Nothing,” he replied half-heartedly. “I just brought you your lunch.”

“Arigatou,” Iwai said uncertainly. An anxious look crept into his light-gold eyes, and Niwa felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach when he saw it. He knew that he was the reason for it, and he felt bad. The artist could sense his tumultuous frame of mind, and his sensitive nature instinctively knew that he was the cause of it.

He forced himself to look away from those sad eyes. “What are you working on?” he asked, not really caring but needing to talk about something before Iwai started grilling him on his behavior. He looked at the canvas, and his breath left his body in a gasp as he stared at the finished piece.

“Do you like it?” Iwai asked hopefully, but the King couldn’t answer. His eyes were riveted on the painting. In it, he saw himself sitting on the couch in the Student Council room. For once he wasn’t naked, or doing anything sexy. His arm was around Iwai’s waist, for the artist had joined him in the picture. Iwai’s head rested on his shoulder, and the dreamy golden eyes were full of so much love, as he looked into the face of his lover, that it literally took Niwa’s breath away. The man in the picture wasn’t aware of that look, for he was gazing forward out of the canvas at something or someone in front of him. He was grinning as though he were seeing something amusing. He wasn’t looking at what was right beside him, the precious gift of love that was so close but might have been a million miles away.

Oh, Gods, Niwa thought in shock. I think I might be the blindest man in the entire universe. He remembered Nakajima’s words as he stared at the painting. With that deep understanding of the world that he had through his art, Iwai had perfectly captured the essence of the difference between them. The artist loved with his whole heart, naturally, giving himself to the one he loved without fear. Niwa preferred to ignore things that made him uncomfortable or afraid, hoping perhaps that they’d go away if he didn’t look at them long enough. If he did that in this case, that might actually happen – but did he want that outcome? Did he want to drive Iwai away, and waste the most beautiful, wondrous gift that he’d ever been given? If he did, then Hide was right. He was a fool.

He’d been silent for so long that Iwai was beginning to worry. Did he not like the painting? Was he angry? He didn’t look angry or upset – but he had such a strange expression on his face that it almost scared Iwai. “Niwa?” he said hesitantly, his voice breaking into the fugue state that the King was in.

Niwa blinked as he looked down into his lover’s face. He saw anxiety there, and Iwai’s fingers were beginning to twist in his lap nervously. He shook his head as he put out his hand to the artist. “Come here, beautiful,” he said commandingly.

Iwai did as he asked instantly. He got to his feet and stepped into Niwa’s arms unhesitatingly, feeling them close around him in a tight hug. Niwa buried his nose in the smoke-grey tresses, closing his eyes as he let his other senses be filled with his lover. Iwai hugged him back, his hands fisting in the fabric of Niwa’s uniform jacket. “What is it?” the artist asked softly near his ear.

The King took a deep breath, as he dropped all of his defenses and prepared to let himself be hurt. With every ounce of courage he possessed, he opened his mouth and spoke the three little words that would seal his fate: “I love you,” he said, and he heard Iwai gasp.

“Niwa,” there was a wealth of awe and happiness in that single word. “Oh, I love you, too,” Iwai replied, his voice ringing with the depth of his emotions.

“I know,” the King replied, and he did. Having seen that picture, he couldn’t not be aware of just how Iwai felt about him. Strangely, he found that once he’d admitted the truth to both himself and his lover, his fear flowed away as though it had never been. It was far easier than he ever would have imagined, giving himself to someone else. He didn’t feel lessened for doing it. Instead, he felt completed. He tightened his arms around Iwai, and truly, at that moment, felt like a King. 

 

The End


End file.
